


"You're Here" A oneshot from a TGS Princess Bride AU

by overlycompensatedapprentice



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017), The Princess Bride - Simon Morgenstern
Genre: A princess bride au no one asked for, Anne! As Wesely, But whatever, F/M, God - Freeform, Kidnapping?, Phillip! As Buttercup, Phillip's dad! As Vizinni? is that how you spell it?, Tgs au, anyway have fun with this, minor racism, this is so cheesy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 12:35:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13975257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overlycompensatedapprentice/pseuds/overlycompensatedapprentice
Summary: This here is a oneshot from a princess bride AU that I'm to lazy to write multiple chapters for, but I needed this ONE SCENE with badass pirate anne saving her boyfriend in distress Phillip: The Battle of Wits scene(If you don't know what I'm talking about look it uppp)





	"You're Here" A oneshot from a TGS Princess Bride AU

**Author's Note:**

> I changed a bit of it for the sake of it making sense, and making Phillip's dad even m o r e of a jerk, but it's mostly the sane

Anne Wheeler, sword in hand, clad all in black, had made for absolute certain that nobody could discern her identity, or anything about her, really. Being the most feared pirate captain on the seven seas, even if only by name, one had to conceal their identity. But today it was especially important. Today, if anyone found out who Anne really was, Phillip Carlyle, the only man she’d ever loved, would die.

They had taken him the previous day. The news had come to Anne not long after. It was the talk of the town, of course it was. The newly crowned prince, kidnapped by mercenaries of a rival kingdom? Only days before his wedding? Something had to be done.

Anne was pretty sure that she, a pirate, wasn’t the solution that they had in mind, but here she was. Even if he didn’t love her anymore, she had to save him. Even if she had to bring him back to his wedding, she couldn’t just let him be killed. That wasn’t an option.

She had bested his swordsman and his Irish Giant, and by bested, she meant that she had a polite conversation, with a bit of trapeze, punching, and swordplay mixed in for good measure, and offered them a spot on her crew, which they had both accepted. What she wasn’t able to get out of them, was who was behind all of this. He had never given them his name, which Anne supposed was smart. But it made her life a little more difficult.

All this was going through Anne’s head as she steadily climbed the hill. She was almost there. This couldn’t be too hard, could it? Whoever had taken Phillip couldn’t have known she’d bested both of his comrades and was now closing in.

Anne drew in a sharp breath as she crested the hill. Before her, there was a cluster of stones that almost resembled a dinner table and chair. Instead of running, or even trying to fight, Phillip’s kidnapper had set up a picnic on one of the stones, with a tablecloth and all. He didn't even look at Anne at first, so Anne couldn’t see his face, but he looked awfully familiar. There was bread, cheese, and wine with fancy goblets. The scene was so bizarre it might have been funny if it weren’t for who sat beside him.

Phillip Carlyle sat stiffly on the rock right beside him, he seemed like he was unharmed, for now at least. His hands lay in his lap, bound tightly, and a blindfold covered his eyes for reasons beyond Anne’s understanding. That wasn’t even the most worrying part.

The most worrying part was the point of the knife pressed up against his throat.

“So,” Phillip’s kidnapper said, looking up at last. “It is down to you, and to me.”

Anne drew in an involuntary sharp breath. She now knew exactly who had taken Phillip. The one pointing the knife at his neck. Anne had worked for him, that’s how she and Phillip had met. When Anne had started working for _his father_.

What in the world was he doing?

“If I’m not mistaken,” Anne tried to disguise her voice, and keep it from shaking too badly. “That is your son you have there.” Anne stepped slowly closer to Phillip and his father.

“If you wish him dead, by all means, come closer.” Mr. Carlyle pushed the knife a little closer to Phillip’s neck. “And yes, he is.

“Why? Why would you...?”

Anne didn’t bother trying to disguise the confusion as she continued to slowly walk forward. “I had my orders,” Mr. Carlyle stated simply. “Got paid a pretty sum for it, too. And you’re killing him.” He grabbed Phillip’s arm and pressed the knife deeper.

Phillip winced in pain. Anne froze.

Anne could see that he was afraid, however much he tried to hide it. She saw it in the way his lower lip trembled and the way his jaw tensed. The way his bound hands clenched into fists on his lap. If Anne could see his eyes through his blindfold, she guessed that they would be full of fear. “Let me explain…”

Anne said, sheathing her blade.

“What is there to explain?” Phillip’s father still kept the knife close to Phillip’s neck. “You’re trying to kidnap what I’ve rightfully stolen.”

 _You didn’t steal anything!_ Anne wanted to scream. _He probably just trusted you because you're his father!_

“Perhaps we can come to an arrangement?” She asked hesitantly.

“No!” The knife didn’t leave Phillip’s neck, and Anne could see he was in pain.

Fine. If Phillip’s father wanted to do all this, then they would do this the hard way.

“Well if there can be no arrangement, then we are at an impasse,” Anne reasoned calmly, her eyes never leaving Phillip.

“It seems so,” Phillip’s father agreed. “I cannot compete with your physical strength and you are no match for my intelligence.”

“What makes you say that?” Anne asked. Was it something she had said?

In reply, Phillip’s father simply gestured to her. To the bare hand she was holding out, trying to placate the situation. No. He wasn’t gesturing to just the hand, he was gesturing to the _color_ of her hand. The fact that it was a darker shade than his. 

Leave it to Mr. Carlyle to be the master multitasker: He could threaten his own son with a knife, try to degrade Anne’s intelligence based solely on the color of her skin, and still set up his picnic at the same time. That took talent.

“In that case.” Anne was right next to them now. It would have been so easy to just grab Phillip and run, but Anne restrained herself. There was still the knife to contend with, and while it may not have posed any real danger to Anne, it certainly did for Phillip, and she really didn’t want to come this far only to have his throat cut. She pulled her secret weapon out of her bag, an unassuming looking leather pouch. “I challenge you to a battle of wits.”

Mr. Carlyle raised his eyebrows. “A battle of wits you say?” He nudged Phillip with his elbow. “For the prince?”

Anne nodded. It was working. “To the death?” Anne nodded once again.

Phillip’s father put down his knife. Anne breathed a sigh of relief. “I accept.”

“Wonderful.” Anne gestured to the pair of goblets on the table, though she didn’t know who the second one was for. It sure was convenient, though. “Pour the wine.”

Phillip’s father did, and Anne took out the poison from the satchel. That’s what it was. Poison.

She handed the vial across the table. “Inhale but do not touch.”

The man obeyed. “I smell nothing.”

“What you don’t smell is called iocaine powder.” Anne took in her moment of glory at the way his eyebrow raised. “It’s odorless, tasteless, dissolves instantly in liquid and is among the more deadly poisons known to man.” She leaned back in triumph at the way his eyes widen for a split second. She lived for her little moments of having the upper hand with someone who thought life was in the bag.

She took both wine glasses and hid them where her adversary couldn’t see them. Then she turned and put them back on the table. One in front of her, one in front of him.

“Where’s the poison?” Anne smirked. “The battle begins.”

Mr. Carlyle considered. Then began the most long-winded deliberation that Anne had ever heard. She tuned it out halfway through, when he was talking about Australia, though Anne really didn’t know why that was pertinent to the matter at hand. Last she’d checked, they were not in Australia. She just nodded when it seemed appropriate. She tuned back in when he seemed to be winding down his explanation. “-In studying, you understand that man is mortal, so you would have put the poison as far from yourself as possible. So I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you.” “You’re trying to trick me into giving away something, it won’t work.” Anne tried to sound nonchalant, but she was getting nervous.

“It has worked -- you've given everything away -- I know where the poison is!”

“Then make your choice,” Anne challenged.

“I will. And I choose…” The man across the table suddenly froze, and pointed at something behind Anne. “What in the world can that be?” “What? Where? I don't see anything.”

“Well, no matter.” Mr. Carlyle raised his glass to Anne, who did likewise. “May the best of us win.”

He waited a moment for Anne to sip from her glass, then sipped from his own.

“You guessed wrong,” Anne smirked. He still didn’t get it. He still had no idea she had just won the game, and thus won Phillip back.

“You only think I guessed wrong...I switched glasses when your back was turned, you fool. You fell victim to one of the classic blunders. The most famous is: Never get involved in a land war in Asia. But only slightly less well known is this: Never go in against a Carlyle when death is on the li--” He fell over dead and Anne smirked and stepped over his still form. It wouldn’t have mattered which goblet he’d chosen. They were both poisoned.

She stopped in front of Phillip, still bound and blindfolded, breathing heavily and making no attempt to run. Anne hesitated for a brief moment. She hoped he’d be happy to see her. Would he even recognize her after all these years? Well, she was here now, there was no going back.

She reached out and took Phillip’s blindfold off, then reached down and freed his hands. Phillip barely glanced down. He was too busy staring at her face.

“You’re here,” he said softly, sounding as though he didn’t believe it.

He reached tentatively out to touch her face, but Anne took his hand before he reached it.

“I’m here,” she agreed.

She leaned in and kissed him and Anne could swear that this was better than any kiss they’d shared five years ago.

“Should I...take you back to your wedding?”

Phillip let out a laugh. “If it's all the same, I think I’d rather stay with you.”

"You'll make a wonderful pirate." Anne kissed him again, and felt as though she was home at last. 


End file.
